


Just Like Riding a Bike (or Something)

by RabbitRunnah



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, like the tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah/pseuds/RabbitRunnah
Summary: Sure, it's been a while since Bitty skated. Doesn't mean he can't still outskate Jack.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 10
Kudos: 191





	Just Like Riding a Bike (or Something)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!” Originally posted on [Tumblr](https://doggernaut.tumblr.com/post/629730863310143488/oh-cool-random-13-sounds-fun-for-zimbits). Thanks to cyn2k for the prompt!
> 
> This is an extremely self-indulgent little ficlet, inspired by that time a couple weeks ago when I was absolutely crushed and furious that I didn’t set a new 5K PR in a self-supported race I didn’t train for. As I am wont to do, I projected some of this frustration onto Bitty.

“Little B is fastest skater,” Tater bragged to one of the rookies as Bitty pulled on his skates during the annual Falconers family skate. “Faster even than Jack.”

“It’s true,” Jack said. “Or, used to be. It’s been a while since we’ve raced. Bits doesn’t play anymore.”

“I do too!” Bitty protested, even though he actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the ice. Had it really been almost two years? He hadn’t skated regularly since graduating, even though at first he and Jack had tried to schedule practice time together every week or so. That had come to an end when Jack’s season started and Bitty got deeper into developing the recipes for his cookbook, often baking or writing anecdotes to go with his recipes late into the night. He just couldn’t do the early mornings anymore. Afternoon runs — his break after working on vlog stuff and before diving into self-promo and book stuff — were more his speed these days.

So yes, it had been a little while since he’d actually skated, but that wouldn’t matter, would it? He’d been skating practically all his life, and what was it they said about riding a bike? Actually, Bitty wasn’t exactly sure what they said about riding a bike, but he was certain it applied in this situation.

“You’re a mighty big talker, Mr. Zimmermann. Want to put your money where your mouth is and see if you can keep up with me?” Bitty challenged.

A half dozen Falconers began hollering their approval. Bitty thought he saw money change hands.

Jack shrugged. “Sure.” 

Snowy slapped Bitty on the back. “Go easy on him, we need him against the Schooners next week.”

Tater laughed. “Bitty doesn’t need to go easy, Jack is slow old man.”

Jack got to his feet and followed Bitty to the rink, where Marty and Thirdy were already slowly skating with their kids. They quickly herded them to center ice as Jack and Bitty took their spots along the perimeter.

“You sure you want to do this, bud?” Jack asked as they got into position.

“Absolutely,” Bitty said. He gave a short, confident nod. “Give it all you’ve got, Mr. Zimmermann.”

*

When was the last time Jack had beat Bitty in a race? Never! It had never happened. There was no precedent for this. And yet, it had happened. 

Bitty started out strong, taking an early lead, but he’d underestimated just how well Jack had been training this season, and how out of shape he himself had gotten. Jack caught up to him just before the halfway point and they’d remained neck and neck until … well, until Bitty, in a final surge to the finish, tripped over his own skate. He laughed it off, gave Jack a big kiss among cat calls and shrieks of “ _Fine_!” to show there were no hard feelings, but it hurt, the bruise to his ego rivaling the ones on his knees.

When they got home he changed into sweats and collapsed onto the couch, determined to wallow in self pity for the rest of the night if need be.

“This should help,” Jack said, coming in from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas in one hand and a cup of hot cinnamon tea in the other. That was the other thing: Bitty had forgotten just how cold the rink was.

“Be honest. Was I really that bad?” Bitty asked, accepting the ice pack Jack offered and pressing it to one of his bruised knees.

“Not bad …” Jack started. “More like… Well, you’re just a little out of practice, eh?”

The bag of peas fell to the floor as Bitty gave Jack a gentle shove. At least, he intended for it to be gentle. As jack winced Bitty realized he might have been a little more aggressive than he thought.

“You said to be honest! Stop hitting me!” Jack reflexively brought a hand to his bicep. There was a confused sadness in his eyes, like he wasn’t quite sure what he’d said that was wrong. 

“Oh! Let me take care of that,” Bitty said, gently prying Jack’s hand away and dipping his head to press a kiss to the spot. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked as he began massaging the area. He suddenly felt terrible, and not just because of the race. He was being a sore loser and taking it out on his fiancé, who was nothing but kind and loving. And, okay, a little competitive, but Bitty was competitive too. It was what made their home life so much fun. More than a few dishes had been broken in their races to unload the dishwasher, and their mutual competitive streak had led to some fun times in the bedroom as well.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

“You’re still stronger than you look,” Jack said. 

“Hmmph,” Bitty huffed.

“You knew you were out of practice. You said so in the car on the way over there.”

“Hmmph.”

“And that’s okay. You’ve been busy.” Jack picked the bag of peas up off the floor and set it back on Bitty’s knee.

“Busy deteriorating,” Bitty grumbled. “I used to be able to outskate you, no problem.”

“You can’t compare yourself to me. I’m on the ice every day because it’s my job. I get paid a lot of money to skate like that.”

“I knew this would happen,” Bitty said. “I just didn’t expect to feel this way about it.”

“And how is that?” 

“Like …” Bitty took a shaky breath. “Like I’ve fallen behind. You know? I thought it would be like riding a bike.”

Jack huffed out a laugh and pulled Bitty close, tucking him under his arm, “Do you remember me when we rented bikes at the beach last summer? I don’t know if that saying applies when you haven’t been on a bike in years.”

“Not even two years, Jack!” Bitty said into Jack’s chest.

“And you’ve done so much in those two years. You’ve grown your YouTube channel and completed the first draft of your book. You’ve done most of the wedding planning. That’s not nothing. Anyway, you’re comparing yourself to a bunch of professional athletes. I bet if we got the old team together you’d skate circles around all of them.”

“That’s true,” Bitty mused. “And I can still lift Tater.”

“If you’re really feeling out of shape, we can start checking practice up again." Jack nudged Bitty in the ribs. "You know, just to make sure you can still take a check.”

Bitty grinned. “Only if you treat me to coffee afterward and chirp me for ordering a pumpkin spice latte. And,” he said, wincing as he shifted the ice pack to his other knee, “maybe wait until my knees heal a bit. I think it’s gonna be a little while before I can walk without pain.” Memories of his Samwell days — the hits, the bruises, the hard practices that left him drained for the rest of the night — suddenly came flooding back. He thought about how Jack looked when he came home after a game, the bruises he’d kissed and the cuts he’d bandaged. Maybe there were a few benefits hanging up his skates, even if he was a little slower these days.

Jack smiled. “It’s a date.”


End file.
